


This Road Goes Two Ways

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: All New X-Factor, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Factor (Comics)
Genre: Bad Science, M/M, quickbit, team and family bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2718968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While visiting Wanda in New York, Pietro is attacked, which affects his powers. The team is determined to help, even if Pietro isn't used to having so many people care about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Road Goes Two Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: don't worry, it's not Hydra. (You'll know what I'm talking about when you read it.) 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this!

First Luna was taken back by her mother. This after weeks of Pietro trying to get Wanda to come see her niece. Wanda had been oddly cagey about the idea. Then, Pietro got a message from her to come to New York so they could talk. 

He was nervous. They'd chosen a cafe to meet. He'd dressed in a button-down and tie for the occasion, then wondered when he'd become the sort of person who felt the need to dress up for his sister. He'd gotten there first, sat at a table with a latte in hand that he wasn't really interested in drinking and waited. His foot tapped against the floor and became a blur. 

To most people, he probably hadn't waited long. But to him, it felt like an eternity. He was almost sick with anticipation. 

Then Wanda came through the door in a red dress, her curly hair cascading over her shoulders in an almost care-free way that made Pietro's chest hurt. For a moment, she looked happy. Like they had been, to some extent, when they were younger. 

Then her eyes lit upon Pietro and her expression closed off. And that hurt more. 

Pietro wondered when he became the kind of brother who his sister couldn't trust. It was the sort of person he'd always fought against being. When they had nothing, they had each other. 

But not now. 

Wanda sat down opposite him, not having bothered to get a coffee. Pietro clutched his to keep his hands from shaking, because they were. 

“Wanda,” he said. 

Wanda looked at him, and he recognized it as the look she gave other people when she was trying to figure them out. 

“Pietro,” she said. And then, “But not the Pietro I remember.” 

Pietro's throat constricted. “Neither of us are the people we remember.” 

“You never lied to me,” Wanda said, quietly. “Until now. For years. We always trusted each other with everything, every thought, every secret no matter how dark.” 

“I know,” Pietro said. “But--”

“We've both done terrible things,” Wanda continued. “I don't know why you felt you couldn't tell me about this.” 

“Because it was so terrible,” Pietro said. “I didn't want to lose you.” 

“I'm more upset that you lied,” Wanda told him. “It hurts more than anything you ever did.” 

“I'm sorry.” Pietro's hands were burning from holding his mug of coffee so tightly, but he couldn't let go. 

“I need to think,” Wanda said. “I don't know what happens next.” She looked like she was getting ready to leave. 

“I-need-you,” Pietro admitted. 

Wanda paused, surprise flickering over her face, followed by sadness. “I need time,” she said. “Our family has hurt us so much, but I thought you...” She swallowed. Pietro did, too. “Doubts don't disappear in an instant.” She stood up. “But thank you for coming.” 

Pietro remained seated, looking up at her. He wasn't sure what to do and neither was she. But she left, and Pietro let go of his coffee and let his hands shake. 

*

Mutant Town hadn't changed since Pietro had last been there, but that alone made his skin crawl a little. Perhaps because the last time he'd been there, he'd also been...not in his right mind. Mutant Town was where he'd become a horrible father, a murderer, a liar, and it made him sick. 

“Look who decided to show his face around here,” a voice broke into his thoughts. He stopped and turned. 

“Fatale.” 

Fatale sneered at him. “Quicksilver.” 

A strong arm wrapped around his throat, and before he could react, something bit into his neck. He managed to get free, but stumbled towards Fatale, who took a step towards him. 

“There's no running,” she said. 

Pietro wanted to run, but his muscles wouldn't obey. His brain was fuzzy. He blamed himself for not reacting faster. Maybe it was the talk he'd had with Wanda hanging over his head. Maybe Fatale and her companion had actually planned this. Maybe they'd known he was in town. 

His vision went, and he fell. 

*

“You destroyed us.” 

Pietro blinked, but he couldn't see much. “Wanda?” 

“No.” 

Pietro remembered. Not Wanda, but Wanda was still upset with him. Didn't trust him. The room focused a little. He felt metal biting into his arms. Trapped. 

Fatale stood over him, a syringe full of amber liquid in her hand. “I want to return the favor,” she said. “Now, let's see what this does to your powers.” 

The needle pricked his arm, and the liquid burned through his veins, white-hot. 

Pietro screamed. 

*

“He don't look so good.” 

Pietro found himself in an alleyway, surrounded by garbage and in the dark. Two men loomed over him and he scrambled to stand up. Dizziness overtook him, and he stumbled into the street. 

He tried to run, wanted to get back to Serval, but the world tilted, his muscles burned, and he fell again. He pulled himself up and leaned against the wall of the nearest building, gasping for air. He felt lightheaded, everything swimming in-and-out of focus. His chest felt like there was something heavy pressing down, trying to prevent him from fully breathing. 

And his brain seemed sluggish. Everything he saw, processed slower. The feeling was sickeningly familiar, one that he'd only felt back when Wanda had disappeared. 

Taking his powers with her. 

He sank to the ground. 

*

“Did Pietro get back yet?” Lorna asked Remy as she fried eggs for the both of them. 

“How should I know?” Remy asked. “I don't keep track of him.” 

“Does anyone?” Doug said, walking into the kitchen and sliding into the seat across from Remy. 

“Egg?” Lorna offered. 

Doug shook his head. “He was nervous before he left. Maybe it didn't go well.” 

“What didn't go well?” Remy asked. 

Lorna floated the frying pan to the table and tipped the eggs onto the plates. “He was meeting up with Wanda to talk to her about the press conference, because she's been a bit cold towards him lately.” 

“Siblings grow apart, right?” Doug asked. 

“He didn't tell me?” Remy added. 

Lorna sat next to him and cocked an eyebrow. “Why would he? You two hate each other.” 

“Not hate,” Remy said. “I've been talking ta him more, figured might as well, we're on the same team. Stop looking at me like that!” 

Lorna didn't stop smirking. “Whatever you want to believe, Remy.” 

“I just think he's not as bad as I thought,” Remy muttered, stabbing his egg and letting the yoke bleed all over the rest of the plate. 

“You said he was nervous,” Lorna said to Doug. “I'm not surprised. They used to mean everything to each other.” 

“I hope he's okay,” Doug said. 

Lorna shrugged. “I'm sure he's fine.” 

That didn't stop her from going by his room after breakfast and knocking on his door. He didn't answer, so she turned the knob to see if it was locked. It wasn't. 

Pietro's room was empty. His bed was made, nothing was particularly out of places except for a few books scattered around like he couldn't be bothered to put them back where they came from, and a Serval Industries hoodie tossed carelessly on the floor. 

“Huh,” Lorna said. 

“Not here?” Remy's voice came from behind her. She whirled around and Remy smiled at her. “Just checking.” 

“He's not here,” Lorna said, frowning at him. “He said he'd be back by now.” 

“You don't think he's in trouble, do you?” Remy asked. 

Lorna stepped outside of the room and closed the door. “Pietro doesn't arrive late to anything. Something's wrong.” 

“If anything's wrong,” Remy said, “we could always ask the 'bots.” 

*

Warlock spent a lot of time with the servers. Danger also spent a lot of time with them, and Lorna suspected that actually, they were just spending a lot of time together and using the servers as an excuse. Or multitasking. 

She and Remy entered the room to find them both there, Danger actively looking at one of the many computer screens and Warlock sitting on the floor, attached to the machines with wires. 

“Warlock,” Lorna said, “could we have a word?” 

Warlock nodded, unplugged himself, and followed Lorna and Remy out of the room. “Is everything okay?” 

“I'm concerned,” Lorna said, “because Pietro was supposed to return from New York last night and he hasn't. You've chipped us, so I was wondering if you could find him?” 

“Of course,” Warlock said. “Self will check.” 

There was a pause where Warlock went very still and Remy leaned towards Lorna and whispered, “Never get used ta that.” 

Then Warlock moved again, his face taking on a concerned look. “I believe,” he said, “Quicksilver is in trouble.” 

*

The trip to New York was short, and ultimately, Remy and Lorna decided to leave everyone behind aside from Warlock. Warlock had told them that Pietro was on a side-street, and that his vitals were strange. And he wasn't moving. Given that his location was in a crowded part of Mutant Town, Lorna figured that there wasn't actually any external trouble going on. 

But she had a terrible feeling that someone had done something to Pietro and they were too late. 

“At least he ain't dead,” Remy said as they followed Warlock through the streets. 

“Helpful,” Lorna said. But it was nice to know that they wouldn't be picking up a body, even if she didn't know what condition her brother would be in. 

They rounded a corner and Warlock made a strange concerned noise. Lorna pushed past him, to find Pietro huddled against the wall of a building, curled in on himself. Not moving. 

She knelt down beside him. “Pietro!” 

Pietro stirred and turned his head towards her. His eyes moved from her to the other two in the background, slowly. His face looked too pale. 

“What happened?” Lorna asked. 

“C'mon,” Remy said. “We can ask questions when we get back.” 

“Can you stand?” Lorna asked Pietro. 

“Yes,” Pietro rasped. Lorna helped him up and he pitched forward, dangerously. “No.” 

“It's fine,” Lorna said. Pietro leaned heavily against her and they made their way out of the city. 

*

“This ain't good,” Remy said, glancing at Pietro lying across the seats next to him. He'd fallen asleep as soon as they'd taken off. “It's weird.” 

“I know,” Lorna said. “We'll get him checked by Serval's doctors. I'm sure it'll be fine.” She didn't sound convinced. “What were you saying about his vitals, Warlock?” 

“They are slower than normal,” Warlock said, “most of the time. Self detects some fluctuation.” 

Lorna watched as Remy's hand hovered over Pietro's hair, like he wanted to stroke it. But instead he put his hand in his lap. 

*

The doctors had taken Pietro's blood and were waiting for results. He'd been released from their care, mostly because aside from fatigue and confusion, he wasn't in any grave danger. The other team members had been asked to watch him closely. 

Lorna and Remy had relocated Pietro to his room and were sitting on the bed. Pietro was awake now, but not quite all there. Still, he seemed more lucid than he'd been when they left the city, so after sending away a very concerned Doug, they decided to talk. 

Or rather, Remy folded his arms and said, “So talk.” 

Lorna and Pietro both threw him dirty looks, and he shrugged. Then Pietro said, “As you know, I went to see Wanda.” 

“Wanda didn't do this,” Remy said. “Did she?” 

“No, she didn't,” Pietro said. “I was cornered after I talked to her, by Fatale.” 

Lorna sucked in a breath. Remy grimaced. 

“Fatale knocked me out,” Pietro continued, with no inflection in his voice, “and took me somewhere. I don't know where. She injected me with something, and then left me in the street. Whatever she injected me with is interfering with my powers.” 

“How so?” Lorna asked. 

“I can't use them,” Pietro said. “Everything seems slow. Strange. Disorienting.” 

“But you've lost your powers before, right?” Lorna asked. 

“That didn't exactly end well, did it?” Pietro muttered. 

“No, but I meant,” Lorna shrugged, “this time you know what it's like. And it can't be permanent. The doctors are working on figuring out what she injected you with.” 

“It feels different,” Pietro told her. “Back then, it was just gone. And I wasn't used to being normal. This time, it feels like it's right under the surface, and it's fighting.” His hands balled into fists. “I can't explain. I feel...it makes me feel sick. It isn't—it's like I'm on the edge of something.” 

“So it took your powers away,” Remy said. “Or maybe not. I mean, is Fatale the sort of person who's inta poetic justice?” 

“Why?” Lorna asked. 

Remy shrugged. “I'm just saying that, when they got their powers back, it messed 'em up. Maybe she wants you ta know how it feels, Pietro. What was it she said when we rescued her? You made her into a walking bomb?” 

Pietro visibly cringed. “Yes, I did.” 

“That doesn't give her the right--” Lorna started. 

“Actually, it does,” Pietro said flatly. 

“Now that's just lowering herself ta your level,” Remy said. “No offense. But if she hated what you did so much, maybe she shouldn't be doing it ta other mutants.” 

“It's me,” Pietro said. 

“Enough,” Lorna said. “Pietro's apologized.” 

“She said apologies were useless,” Pietro told her softly. 

“She's wrong,” Lorna said. “How about you get some rest, and we'll talk more tomorrow? We won't be able to move forward until the doctors figure out what she gave you.” 

Pietro nodded. Lorna gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and she and Remy left the room, closing the door behind them. 

“So what--” Remy started, but Lorna hissed “Shhh” and dragged him down the hallway into the kitchen. 

“So what,” Remy said when they got there, glaring at her, “are we supposed ta do?” 

“Wait,” Lorna said, “and make sure he's okay.” She leaned against the counter and massaged her temples. “I hate this.” 

“Not your fault,” Remy said automatically. 

“I'm not blaming myself,” Lorna said. “You've spent too much time around Summers.”

Remy blinked. “Scott?” 

“Does it matter?” Lorna sighed. “It's just...I don't know what to do. How to act. He's my brother but, I mean, I've never been in this position before. Not with him.” 

“It seems like you two know each other well enough,” Remy pointed out. 

“I mean, he's comforted me before,” Lorna said. “But I wasn't really around when he had his breakdown. And honestly? I'm not an expert in that sort of thing.” 

“Well knowing Pietro, he don't like ta admit he's got problems,” Remy said. “So maybe he needs the sorta tough love that you seem so good at.” 

Lorna narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean, I'm good at tough love?” 

Remy held his hands up. “Just saying.” 

“Right. And I'm surprised at you, Remy.” She grinned, which made Remy uneasy. “I didn't know you cared so much.” 

“He's on the team,” Remy said. 

“And you thought he was evil for the longest time,” Lorna pointed out. “But he's growing on you, isn't he?” 

“I'm supporting you,” Remy insisted.

“Uh, huh.” Lorna turned around and grabbed a glass. “Want a drink?” 

“Yes,” Remy said. “Make it strong.” 

*

“It has been brought to my attention,” Snow said, “that Quicksilver has been attacked.” 

The team sat around a conference table with Snow at the head. Pietro leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. Danger and Warlock exchanged a look. 

Then Remy said, “Who told you?” 

“The doctors,” Snow said. “As a matter of fact, they've given me the results of Mr. Maximoff's latest blood test.” 

“Latest?” Pietro asked. 

“I asked them to talk to me,” Lorna said. 

“What they found was concerning enough to bring to my attention,” Snow said, “given the nature of this team. Remnants of a chemical that, when bonded to mutant DNA, attacks the mutant gene.” 

Lorna sighed. Remy glared at the table. “A mutant using that sorta thing on another mutant ain't right.” 

“Many of my clients are mutants,” Snow said, “and this team in all of its incarnations has been made up of mutants. You can see why I might be concerned. Which is why I have a mission for you.” 

“Hang on,” Lorna said, “can we get back to the part about the chemical that's in Pietro's blood?” 

Snow nodded. “The doctors are working on an antidote.” 

“Which means there isn't one,” Remy said. 

“Not that we know of,” Snow said, “although this brings me back to the mission. I need you to find out where this chemical came from. And perhaps, once you find the source, you will find the antidote.” 

“And what then?” Lorna asked. 

“Leave it to me,” Snow said. “The effects aren't known, since we can't find the source, but I suggest keeping Mr. Maximoff under close observation for the time being.” 

Remy draped an arm around Pietro and pulled him close. “Done.” Pietro jerked away from him. 

“Any questions?” 

“No,” Lorna said. 

Snow nodded. “Then I'll take my leave.” He walked out of the room. 

As soon as the door shut behind him, Remy asked, “How're we gonna find the source?” 

“I don't like this,” Doug said. “There was something off about Snow.” 

“How so?” Lorna asked. 

Doug made a vague gesture with his hands. “I don't think he was being completely honest, but I'm not entirely sure how.” 

“You think it's a trap?” Remy asked. 

Doug shook his head. “I think there's something we're missing.” 

“The location, for starters,” Pietro said. “And the motive. I've never known Snow to be particularly concerned about mutant rights before, despite the make-up of his team.” 

“We haven't come up against many mutant rights issues before,” Lorna said. 

“Dakei was one,” Danger pointed out. 

“Fatale is the key,” Pietro said. “Track her down, question her.” 

“What makes you think she'll talk?” Remy asked. The team was silent for a moment. 

Then Danger said, “I can be persuasive.” 

“We don't torture,” Lorna told her. 

“I don't recall that being a rule,” Danger said. 

“I thought it didn't need saying,” Lorna said. “Anyway, we'll figure out what to do once we find her. The important thing is to find her. Warlock, Doug, I'm putting you in charge of that. And make sure no one knows we're looking.” 

“Self will be discreet,” Warlock said. 

“Great. I want reports. I want this to be done fast,” Lorna said. The team got up and filed out of the room. Lorna made to follow, but Pietro grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back, shutting the door again. “What?” 

“Am I part of this?” he asked. 

“Of course,” Lorna said, pulling her arm out of his grip. “You're the one who got poisoned. And you're the one who found out that Fatale has access to these chemicals.” 

“Not what I meant,” Pietro said, his expression dark. “Am I part of this as a member of the team, or as a victim?” 

Lorna stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I'm not sure what you mean.” 

“I'm useless, Lorna,” Pietro said. “I can't use my power. I can't even think as fast as I could. And you don't need dead weight dragging the rest of the team down.” 

“You're not,” Lorna said. “You're a valuable member of this team and you're on the team even if you don't have your powers.” 

“If I don't have my powers then what do I have to give?” Pietro insisted. “Be honest.” 

“You're so difficult,” Lorna muttered. “You still have a brain, right?” She made for the door. “Use it.” Then she was gone. 

*

“How're you feeling?” Remy asked, plopping down on the couch next to Pietro. 

“I hate waiting,” Pietro said, keeping his eyes on the television. Remy looked over and noticed that they were watching Top Gear. 

“Of all the things ta watch—really?” 

“I enjoy it,” Pietro said. 

Remy chanced a look at Pietro again. He was leaning against the armrest of the couch, his eyes half-open. “Don't look like it,” he said. 

Pietro sighed and sat up straight. It looked like it took effort. “It's not quite the same when processed at half the speed.” 

“I don't get you,” Remy said. “You try watching a show not about speed?” 

“Downton Abbey,” Pietro said. “It's not on.” 

“I really don't get you,” Remy muttered, grabbing the remote from between them. Pietro didn't complain when he flicked through the channels and came to rest on Star Trek. “Now we're talking.” 

“Give me that,” Pietro snapped, leaning over and attempting to snatch the remote from Remy's grasp. But Remy held it out of reach, so that Pietro's hands closed around his arm instead. 

“Don't make me kick you off,” Remy said. “You'll watch it and you'll like it. Think of it as an education.” 

“You're the last person I need to learn from,” Pietro said, but he backed off and re-settled in his spot. 

Remy watched him watch the show. He looked tired. It wasn't a world-weary tired either. It looked like a physical, genuinely exhausted sort of state of being. Something that he'd never seen on Pietro before. 

He grew even more worried when Pietro didn't talk, or say anything, during two episodes of Star Trek. The whole thing was eerie as hell, and Remy didn't quite know how to make it any less weird. But then the credits of the second episode were playing, and Remy found himself turning off the TV. 

“Huh,” Pietro said. He stood up and left the room. 

Remy stretched his legs out on the remainder of the couch. “Weird.” 

*

The next morning's breakfast seemed to serve as an update, since Doug and Warlock had been working through the night. 

“She covers her tracks well,” Doug said. “Probably because the people she's associating with don't want to be found.” 

“I wonder,” Danger said. 

“Wonder what?” 

“Whether she knew we would come after her,” Danger clarified. 

“Of course she knew,” Remy said, spearing a sausage and stuffing it into his mouth. “Why wouldn't we come after her after she pulled a stunt like that?” 

“If she didn't want to be found she would've kept Pietro, right?” Lorna said, frowning at her eggs. “I mean, letting Pietro go is a risky move.” 

“I didn't know where she was based,” Pietro reminded her. 

“She had no way of guaranteeing that,” Lorna said. 

“Presumably,” Pietro said, “where she was based and where her supplier is based are two different places.” 

“Red herring,” Doug murmured. 

“So you have nothing?” Lorna asked. 

“I wouldn't say nothing,” Doug said. “We have hints but we need time. We think Fatale is still in Mutant Town. But Mutant Town has a lot of people, and a lot of places to hide. You can't exactly canvas the place.” 

“We might get that desperate,” Remy said. 

“We won't,” Lorna said. “Just keep looking.” 

“It might take some time,” Doug said apologetically. He took a final bite of eggs and stood up. “Ready, 'lock?” 

Warlock nodded and together they left the room. 

“D'you think Doug loves Warlock?” Remy asked. 

“What makes you ask that question?” Danger asked. 

“Nothing,” Remy said. Danger stood up and left, and as soon as he was sure she was out of earshot he said, “They're really close, and I've never seen Doug with a girl.” 

“I'm sure he has been,” Lorna said. “They're best friends.” 

“There's friends and there's friends, Lorna.” 

“You are horrible,” Pietro said, standing up. 

“I'm just saying,” Remy told him. 

“And I refuse to listen,” Pietro said, spinning around and walking out. Remy shrugged and speared another sausage. 

“You are horrible,” Lorna told him. 

Remy winked at her. “But you love it.” 

“I tolerate it,” Lorna said. “There's a difference.” 

*

Later in the afternoon they still had nothing, aside from Doug getting a headache from all the leads he and Warlock had to sort through. Danger had decided to help them, but still. Looking for one mutant in Mutant Town was really, really hard. 

Remy had gone to the kitchen to drop off plates from Doug's lunch and was on the way back to his room when he heard a strange sound coming from the bathroom. He paused, and listened, and heard coughing. So he knocked on the door. 

“What?” It was Pietro's voice, sounding strained. 

“You okay?” Remy asked. 

“Fine.” 

Remy didn't believe that, but he didn't want to burst into the bathroom without a good reason. His hesitation gave him one; a few seconds later he heard a sound that was definitely retching. He tested the door which, luckily, was unlocked, and slipped inside, closing it behind him. 

Pietro was gripping the toilet so hard that his hands were white. Remy knelt down next to him and put on a hand on his shoulder. Pietro shook, and Remy cringed. This wasn't good. 

When Pietro was done being sick, he flushed the toilet and leaned back, resting his head against Remy's chest, catching his breath. 

“You know,” Remy said, “it's hard ta pretend there's nothing wrong when we all live together and there's only one bathroom.” 

Pietro pulled away from him, as if he'd just realized who he was leaning against. He braced himself against the bathtub and frowned at Remy. 

“What's going on?” Remy asked. 

“You know what,” Pietro said, his voice hoarse. “Whatever is going on, it's making me feel sick. And I don't want Lorna to think I'm more useless than I already am.” 

“You're not useless,” Remy said, “or don't you listen ta anything she says.” 

“Coming from you,” Pietro muttered, “that means a lot.” 

“Thanks,” Remy said, rolling his eyes. “Sorry I helped.” 

“Wait.” Pietro reached out and grabbed his arm before he could stand up. “I mean that, actually.” He sounded surprised at himself. “I know how much you didn't want me on this team.” 

“You're alright,” Remy said, “for an ass. If we're being honest, I'm worried about you.” 

Pietro frowned. “Why?” 

“I dunno,” Remy said with a shrug. “I just am. Don't know why, but I think I might care about you.” 

“It was the press conference, wasn't it?” Pietro said. 

“Yeah,” Remy said, “I suppose it was. Seeing you knock yourself down a peg or two. Not gonna lie, it was satisfying. And finding out about you spying for the Avengers, that was satisfying, too.” 

“Not particularly good reasons to like me,” Pietro said. 

“No, but you also stayed,” Remy said. “You didn't run.”

Pietro nodded and closed his eyes. 

“You ready ta leave?” Remy asked. 

“Not sure,” Pietro admitted. 

“I can leave if you want,” Remy added. 

“You can stay,” Pietro said, “if you feel so inclined.” 

Remy rolled his eyes. “Fantastic.” He didn't move. 

Pietro opened his eyes. “Don't tell Lorna,” he said. “I don't want her to worry.”

“She'll find out,” Remy said. “She always does.” 

*

“Where's Pietro?” Lorna asked. She'd just finished lunch with the robots and Doug, who seemed to live with the computers now. 

“I think he's asleep,” Remy said. “Why?” 

“I had a meeting with the doctors today,” Lorna said, “and I'm worried. The chemical seems to make his body attack itself. Uses his mutation against him. And, I wanted to get him to eat something.” 

“Did the doctors tell him that?” Remy asked. 

“Yeah,” Lorna said. “But I think he's been avoiding me. We haven't had the chance to talk about it.” 

“Maybe he doesn't want you ta worry,” Remy said. 

“Well, I am worried,” Lorna said. “It's my job. Something is wrong and I want to fix it and I can't.” 

“It'll be fine,” Remy said. “Something'll come up. Doug and the 'bots aren't doing all this work for nothing.” 

“I'm afraid,” Lorna said. “Pietro's isolating himself and that's never good.” 

“I'll annoy him enough that he'll wish he talked ta you,” Remy said with a small grin. 

Lorna gave him a weak smile back. “You do that.” 

*

The next day Pietro grabbed Remy in the kitchen and asked him if he wanted to take a walk. 

“I need to get out,” he said, “but Lorna would kill me if I went out alone.” 

“Why don't you ask Lorna?” Remy asked. 

“She has enough on her plate,” Pietro said. 

They went out and began walking towards the nearest town. “I hope you don't mind,” Remy said, “but I'm in the mood for coffee.” 

“I don't mind,” Pietro said. 

As they walked, it struck Remy how slow Pietro was. Well, he was walking at normal speed for a normal person. Maybe a bit slower than Remy. It was strange, and disturbing. And he looked so tired. 

They came upon one of the local coffee shops after twenty minutes of walking in mostly-silence. Pietro seemed to be thinking, and Remy decided for once not to bother him. He had his own thoughts, too. Thoughts about how a few months ago he never would've willingly spent time alone with Pietro, but now he was fine with it. Even the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It just was. 

Pietro sank into one of the chairs by the window and Remy said, “What d'you want?” 

“I'm fine,” Pietro said absently. 

“Right.” Remy got himself a mocha because he enjoyed sweet coffee drinks infinitely more than straight coffee, and sat down with his confection. Pietro cocked an eyebrow at the drink, which at the moment resembled a mountain of whipped cream on top of a cup. Remy dug in with a spoon. 

“How are you not dead yet?” Pietro asked. 

“Don't tell me you don't have a sweet tooth,” Remy said. “I've seen you eating my desserts.” 

“There is far too much whipped cream,” Pietro said. “Is there even coffee in that?” 

“Plenty,” Remy said. “Want some?” 

Pietro made a face. “No.” 

“You're missing a piece of heaven, here,” Remy said, licking his spoon clean. 

“It looks like the hot chocolates Luna likes so much,” Pietro observed. 

Remy glanced at him. “You miss her?” 

“Of course,” Pietro said. “At the same time, I can't help but be relieved that she isn't here right now.” 

“But you'd rather she was,” Remy said. 

“I wouldn't want her to worry,” Pietro said. “I've made her worry too much in the past.” 

“Huh.” Remy swallowed another mouthful of whipped cream. “By the way, can you run anymore?” 

“Yes,” Pietro said. 

“I mean, fast.” 

“It hurts,” Pietro said with a guarded expression that told Remy he'd been stupid enough to try. 

Remy decided not to comment on that. He took another spoonful of cream. He was slowly but surely making his way to the coffee bit. 

“Lorna talked ta the doctors,” he said instead. 

“I heard,” Pietro said. “They talked to me, too. I'd rather they hadn't, but as you said, Lorna will always find out.” 

“I think if you talked ta her you'd actually make her less worried,” Remy said. “She needs ta know things about the people on her team. And she doesn't want you isolating yourself. Says it's bad when you do that.” 

“I'm not,” Pietro said. “I'm with you.” 

“Yesterday you weren't,” Remy said. 

“If we spent all hours of every day together we'd kill each other,” Pietro said. “The others are busy.” 

“So I'm the option when you get desperate,” Remy said. “Fantastic.” 

“You're the more interesting option,” Pietro deadpanned. 

“Thanks,” Remy said, not convinced. He'd now managed to reach the drink part of his drink and took a sip. The chocolate was heavenly, and he leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh. “Wow.” 

Pietro reached over and grabbed the drink. “Hey!” Remy cried, but Pietro smirked at him and raised the cup to his mouth, taking a sip, before placing it back in front of Remy. 

“Ass,” Remy said. 

“It is good,” Pietro told him. “If a bit sickening.” 

“And it's mine,” Remy said, wrapping his hands around the mug a bit possessively. 

“And people look to you for protection,” Pietro muttered. 

“And I do a fine job,” Remy said. He took another sip. 

Pietro watched him. Remy didn't mind so much; he was going to enjoy his drink and he was going to be proud that he was. After a moment Pietro said, “I have a plan.” 

“That's not good,” Remy said. 

“The others aren't making headway because Fatale and the organization she's working with don't want to be found,” Pietro said. “However, if Fatale thought her attack failed, she'd try again, right?” 

“This is gonna be stupid, isn't it,” Remy muttered. 

Pietro leaned forward. “We go to New York and use me as bait to draw her out.” 

“There's a lot of problems with that,” Remy said. “Most of 'em have ta do with you actually not being okay.” 

“She doesn't know that,” Pietro said. “And the longer we wait, the more my body attacks itself.” 

“You'd be putting yourself in danger,” Remy said. “Unnecessarily. I think we can take care of it.” 

“I want to help,” Pietro snapped. “It presents a danger to us all. I can't just sit here and wait.” 

Remy finished his drink. “You're a man of action,” he said. 

“I'm holding the team back,” Pietro said. “While we concentrate on this, we let our other jobs with Serval slip to the side. We don't have the time--”

“If I recall, Snow wants ta find the source as well. Either way, it's worth it,” Remy said, “if it means you don't get hurt worse than you already are.” 

Pietro's eyes narrowed. “Since when do you care about that?” 

“I just do, okay?” Remy said. “And I know Lorna does, too. The whole team doesn't want ta see you hurt, or worse. Just let us help.” He stood up. “It's time we get back, I think.” 

Pietro stood up and strode out of the cafe. For the first time since they'd left Serval earlier, Remy had to run to catch up with him. 

“You're being difficult,” he said. 

“I will go to New York by myself if I have to,” Pietro said. 

Remy grabbed his arm, stopping them both in their tracks. “Don't you dare. Don't be selfish. It'll make things worse.” He didn't take his eyes off Pietro for a moment. Pietro glared back at him, breathing hard, but he couldn't sustain it. “We do things as a team.” 

“Right,” Pietro said. Remy dropped his arm and they started walking again. 

After a few minutes Remy said, “I'm not saying don't bring it up with Lorna. But I am saying don't put yourself in unnecessary danger. And definitely don't go lone-wolf style.” 

Pietro stopped walking and Remy nearly bumped into him. “Remy,” he said. 

“What?” Remy moved around to look at him and had a split second to process that Pietro had gone completely white. 

“I don't--” Pietro's eyes rolled back and he fell. 

Remy barely caught him. 

 

*

“'His condition is worse' they said. What does that even mean?” Lorna demanded. She was pacing. They'd laid Pietro out on the couch in the living room. He was still unconscious. The doctors had determined that he'd had a drop in blood pressure from exertion, which Remy thought was laughable. Or just sad. Pietro could run across the country without breaking a sweat in a few minutes. That a walk had caused him to pass out...

That was bad. And he was worried, too. 

The doctors had also flagged malnutrition from Pietro's most recent blood test. When Lorna asked why, they told her that he wasn't eating much, and that when he did it, he'd often be sick. Another side-effect of the chemicals he'd been given. 

Lorna always found out. 

Remy had elected to sit on the couch by Pietro's head, mostly so that he wouldn't have to keep moving around Lorna. 

“We're losing time,” Lorna said. “We're not getting any leads, Snow's getting impatient, and he's getting worse.” 

Remy shifted in his seat. “Pietro had a plan.” 

Lorna stopped. “Did he?” 

“It's not a...you won't like it,” Remy said. 

Pietro groaned, drawing their attention. Remy automatically brushed Pietro's hair back from his head. Pietro grimaced and tried to sit up, but Remy laid a hand on his arm to stop him. 

“How are you feeling?” Lorna asked. 

“Horrible,” Pietro said. “What happened?” 

“You passed out,” Remy said. “That chemical in your blood ain't playing nice.” 

“Remy said you have a plan,” Lorna said. Remy looked up at her, wondering if it was too soon to say anything. But Lorna had her eyes on Pietro. 

This time, Pietro managed to sit up. He hunched over, his arms wrapped around his middle. “Are you okay?” Remy asked. 

“I'll live,” Pietro said. He sounded like he was in pain. “Did Remy tell you my plan?” 

“No,” Lorna said. “But you can tell me.” 

“We go to New York,” Pietro said. “Use me as bait to attract Fatale, make her think her attack on me failed. Get her to lead us to her suppliers. Destroy them, get a cure.” 

“Absolutely not,” Lorna said. 

“You haven't had any other leads,” Pietro said. 

“You're getting worse,” Lorna said. “You can't do that.” 

“I can, actually,” Pietro said. “I could go to New York right now.” 

“You can barely stand,” Lorna said. 

“Remy talked me out of it,” Pietro continued, “said it was stupid. The team goes, or no one does. He said I need to trust you. I think he's right. That said, we're cutting into the time we'd be spending doing Serval's other work.” 

“You could get worse,” Lorna said. 

“I could get worse here,” Pietro said, “if we don't find anything.” 

Lorna sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“I hate ta say this,” Remy chimed in, “but actually, he makes a good point. I thought it was pretty stupid, too. But if we have limited time, and if Snow's starting ta get frustrated because we're stuck on this, and if Pietro's just gonna get worse...” 

“Right,” Lorna said. “Right.” 

“I mean, there are no good choices here,” Remy said. 

“No,” Lorna said. “There's not.” 

“So what are we doing?” Pietro asked. There was a touch of familiar impatience in his voice. 

“Get your uniforms. Tell the others we're going to Mutant Town.” 

*

“This could be a bust,” Remy said. 

“A desperate plan,” Danger said. “But we have not found anything.” 

“Your confidence is inspiring,” Lorna said. 

“I think it's fine,” Doug said. “As long as we're careful.” 

“Well the mastermind of all this is asleep,” Lorna said, “which is probably a bad sign.” 

She was only half joking. Pietro's head was resting on Remy's shoulder, and he was fast asleep. It worried Remy, that no matter how much sleep Pietro got, he still seemed tired. He knew it worried Lorna, too. When he'd fallen asleep ten minutes into the flight, she'd looked away. 

But she had smirked at him when Pietro's head dropped onto Remy's shoulder. 

If Remy was being honest with himself, it felt nice. It'd been a long time since he'd had someone fall asleep on him. And he'd spent enough time around Pietro lately that it wasn't even that weird. 

It was calming. It made him not want to think about what they were going to do when they landed. 

“This is a stupid plan,” he said, mostly to himself. 

“It'll be fine,” Lorna said. “He has the team behind him.” 

*

They dropped Pietro off in the same place he'd been when Fatale first attacked him. He was in his Serval uniform, leaning nonchalantly against a building. From far away, he looked like he was waiting for something. Observing. Every so often he'd say something into his headset, mostly to look like he was actually there for a purpose, but also to update the team. 

“This is so obviously a trap,” Remy said. 

“It looks like Pietro's on reconnaissance,” Lorna said. “Don't worry about it.” 

Pietro checked his watch. He tapped his foot. He looked impatient, which was good for them. Remy knew that up close, he actually looked ill, but Fatale wouldn't notice that until it was too late. As long as he didn't pass out again, no one would notice. 

It was stressful. The whole thing was stressful, and Remy didn't want it to be. He also didn't want to think about how when they'd first left Pietro on the street, he'd given him a brief kiss. It had been instinct. He'd kissed Rogue before missions all the time. 

Pietro wasn't Rogue, and he'd looked shocked, and Remy himself was a little shocked, and then he'd left Pietro there to get into position. And the next thing he heard in his headset was Pietro's voice saying, “We need to talk later, Remy.” And then silence. 

It was almost easier to think about the risky mission ahead of them than about that kiss. 

The only thing that really made any of them feel better was that Warlock had managed to disguise himself as an eclectic electrical power box a few feet away. So if Fatale came with the intent to kill rather than kidnap, they'd have someone close by to react. 

He also was meant to implant a tracker on her without her noticing, if she went with kidnapping.

“She is here!” Warlock said over their comms. 

Remy snapped his head up. Fatale had appeared and had knocked Pietro down. She slammed his head against the sidewalk, and Pietro went limp. Warlock shot something small at her, barely noticeable. The only reason Remy noticed was that he was looking for it. 

Then Fatale and Pietro disappeared. 

“Is she being tracked?” Lorna asked. 

“Self is tracking her,” Warlock said, unfolding himself and starting towards them. “She is north, in the Bronx.” 

“Fantastic,” Remy said. “Let's go.” 

*

Their path led them to what looked like an abandoned block of low-lying buildings that could have been warehouses, or factories, or covert strip clubs. The few people they saw wandering around gave them looks as if to say that they didn't belong there, even though the place looked like no one could ever belong there. 

“Hidden in plain site?” Lorna asked when they stopped in front of one of the buildings and Danger blasted the door open. 

“Underground,” Warlock said, and they went inside. 

The building was dark, and empty of everything. It was just one big hall, unlit and drafty. Warlock crossed to the other side. Remy thought the shadows were moving, which made his hair stand on end, but they kept walking. 

Warlock came to a patch of floor and knelt down, pressing his hand, which had sprouted wires, against the surface. The floor melted away, revealing a set of stairs. 

“Creepy,” Doug said. 

“So who wants ta go first?” Remy asked. 

Warlock started down the stairs, followed by Lorna and the others, Danger bringing up the rear. It was even darker as they descended, quietly. The stairs seemed to go on forever, until finally, they evened out. The only light came from Warlock and Danger, and even with that, it was hard to see. 

 

They came upon metal door secured with a scanning device. Remy started charging up a card. Lorna said, “I can't move it.” 

Warlock extended a few wires that burrowed into the door's interface. After a few seconds, the door hissed open. 

“Thanks,” Lorna said. 

On the other side was what looked like a combination lab and weapons factory. There were lots of strange looking guns assembled on various tables, but there were equally lots of chemicals sitting around in beakers and science equipment lying on the other tables. They walked further in as a group. 

And then Doug said, “You'd think there'd be more people here.” 

“The only reason there wouldn't be,” Lorna said, “is if it was--” The sound of many guns being cocked drowned out the last part of her sentence, “--a trap.” 

“Well shit,” Remy said, as a ring of soldiers appeared around them. Fatale was in the middle of them, and she broke away from the group to walk towards the team. 

“Neat trick,” Lorna said. “Why shouldn't I kill you right now?” 

“You don't have what you came for,” Fatale said. 

“We'll take you and them,” Remy said. “You don't know what you're messing with.” 

“I think I do,” Fatale said. “Why would you want to help him, anyway? I am well within my rights. Or have you forgotten what he's done to me, and others?” 

“I haven't forgotten,” Lorna said. “But you have to realize two things. One, is that he's my brother. And two, is that if you're going to bring yourself to that level, then maybe--”

“Don't say something you'll regret,” Fatale said. 

“--you're just as bad as he is,” Lorna finished. 

Fatale snarled, disappeared, and reappeared behind Lorna, looping an arm around her neck. She only said one thing. “Shoot.” 

The team sprung into action. Remy threw several cards that destroyed several guns. Doug rammed Fatale in the small of her back, causing her to lose her grip on Lorna, enough for her to stagger away several steps and try to disable the guns. But it didn't work. 

Fatale procured a knife and laughed at Lorna's confusion. “Do you think people are stupid enough to use metal weapons anymore?” 

“I was hoping you were,” Lorna said, “and I wasn't wrong.” She flicked her hands and Fatale's knife jumped out of her hands and slashed her across the face before flying through the air towards Lorna, who caught it. 

Fatale lunged at her. 

Remy had managed to get half the guns off half the soldiers, but the other half were still shooting. Warlock had enveloped Doug, and Danger was walking up to the soldiers, grabbing their weapons, and knocking them unconscious. They all seemed to be trying to avoid her. 

Remy continued throwing cards at the rest from under cover. Doug shouted at Warlock, “Let me go! I can find information.” 

“Will you be safe?” Warlock asked. 

“I'll be safe,” Doug said. Warlock separated himself from Doug, who sprinted towards Remy and dove behind the nearest table. “I need to get to a computer, an interface, anything that looks like it might have information.” 

“You gonna read it all while we're fighting?” Remy asked. 

Doug held up a small USB. “I'm going to download it,” he said, “and I'm going to find Pietro. You in?” 

“What the hell,” Remy said. There was an explosion from Danger's direction. “The others seem ta be doing fine.” 

They hop-scotched between stacks of weapons and tables. Remy stuck his head up and saw the fighting happening in the distance. But against one of the walls was what Doug would probably call an interface. It looked electronic and had screens, which was promising. They closed the distance and Doug immediately found a place to attach his USB, which was impressive because Remy couldn't even see anywhere to put it. 

“How d'you know that?” Remy asked. 

“I'm familiar with computers,” Doug said. “How they're built. Code. Warlock's been very helpful.” 

“I'm sure he has,” Remy muttered. The sounds of the fight were drifting over and he shifted on his feet, not liking just standing there. One of the screens blinked to life and a lot of data streamed across the screen, followed by plans and pictures. 

“Sometimes I wish I were a telepath,” Doug murmured, flicking through the information. “I need cameras.” 

“While you're looking for Pietro,” Remy said, “do they have a cure? 'Cause we'll need that too.” 

“Yup,” Doug said. “Pietro first.” The screen split into several grainy images. Doug's eyes flickered rapidly between them. “Ah, there. Okay, Remy, go along that wall,” he pointed to the left, “and half way you'll find a door. I'll disable the security and you can go through it. Pietro is in there.” 

“Thanks,” Remy said, and he was off, running, forgetting about the battle going on on the other side of the underground facility. Because now he had something to do. 

He skidded to a halt in front of the door and muttered, “Doug,” into his earpiece. A second later the door slid open and Remy sprinted inside. 

This room was full of medical equipment. A metal table stood directly in the center. Remy glanced around the room and saw a shock of white hair beyond the table, on the floor. 

“Merde,” he hissed, rushing over and kneeling next to Pietro's prone body. The other man was shaking uncontrollably, and there was a pool of bile streaked with what looked like blood next to his head. Remy lifted Pietro off the floor and pulled him close, trying to still his shaking. 

“R-remy,” Pietro stuttered. “I tr-tried to st-op her.” He jerked his head to the side and Remy followed his gaze to a syringe on the floor. Empty. 

“It's fine,” Remy said, stroking Pietro's hair. Pietro's breath hitched and he moaned. “It'll be fine.” 

“D-don't lie,” Pietro muttered. 

“I'm not. Doug?” He listened, trying to hear if Doug was responding. But there was only silence. 

Pietro jerked forward and retched again, blood splattering on the floor and on Remy's coat sleeve. 

“Doug,” Remy repeated, his voice breaking a little. “I need a cure, now!” 

“I've accessed their records on the various serums they've developed to affect mutants,” Doug said. “I'm trying to figure out which one is the antidote. There are a lot--”

“Yeah, well, Pietro's in real bad shape,” Remy said. The other man felt too hot against him, which was weird. Pietro ran cool. “Doug--”

“I know,” Doug said. “They'll be in that room. Um, it's either the clear liquid or the yellow one. Don't use the blue one, that's bad.” 

“And the yellow and clear ones are good?” Remy asked. 

“No, one of them is also bad, but mild,” Doug said. “They must have purposefully made this difficult.” 

“Okay.” Remy shifted Pietro, propping him against the table. “Be right back.” Pietro didn't respond. Remy scrambled over to the cabinets and opened every single one until he found the vials. 

Blue liquid, red liquid, yellow liquid, orange liquid, clear liquid. “Found them,” Remy said. “But which ones.” 

“Clear,” Doug said. “I'm 98% sure it's clear.” 

“What's the other two percent,” Remy said, but he grabbed a clear vial and spun around in search of a syringe. “Where do I inject this anyway? I'm not a doctor...” 

“Just,” Doug said, “his arm.” 

“His arm.” Remy pulled out a drawer and found a syringe. With unsteady hands he managed to put the syringe together and uncap the needle. He knelt beside Pietro again, who didn't even notice he was there. “I hope this works.” 

The only part of Pietro that wasn't covered by his uniform was his neck, because at some point the hood had been pulled down. Remy took a shaky breath. “Doug, how about his neck?” 

“As long as it goes in him,” Doug said. 

Remy swallowed, and plunged the needle into Pietro's neck. Pietro didn't flinch, not even when Remy depressed the liquid. Once it was all gone, he tossed the syringe aside and pulled Pietro close again. 

Pietro gasped, stiffening in Remy's grasp, and made a pained noise that escalated into a scream. And then he stopped, suddenly, and went completely limp in Remy's arms. 

Remy heard heavy breathing and realized that it was coming from him. Pietro had scared him, and he shook a little as he stood up. “Can I destroy this?” he asked Doug. 

“The team's done,” Doug said. “We need to leave. Pietro needs medical attention.” 

“Right.” Remy knelt back down and picked Pietro up. “Guess it's my turn ta carry you.” 

Somehow, he made it back to the entrance, where the rest of the team was waiting. Lorna blanched when she saw Pietro in his arms and rushed over. 

“Is he breathing?” she asked. 

Remy glanced down. In his shock he hadn't thought to check, hadn't even considered. Pietro hadn't even moved. 

Lorna pressed two fingers against his neck and waited. After a moment she sighed. “He's just unconscious,” she said. “Let's get back. And Danger?” 

“Yes,” Danger said. 

“Call the other nearby teams. Let them raid this place, and burn it to the ground.” 

*

“The good news is that they aren't Hydra.” 

Lorna leaned forward in her chair and frowned at Doug. “The bad news?” 

“That they're a fringe group of scientists who have been studying the mutant genome and creating various chemical serums that can affect a mutant's powers,” Doug said. “But they don't seem to have any other base of operations. That isn't to say that they don't have backups, or people in hiding. None of the scientists were there at the time.” 

“How does Fatale get in with a group of rogue mutant scientists?” Lorna asked. 

“A need for revenge?” Doug said. “Doesn't matter, she's in prison so she's not our problem, right?” 

“I don't know what qualifies as our problem and not our problem,” Lorna said. “But good work, Doug.” 

“Thanks,” Doug said. “I'm going to, uh, keep going through the data. See if there's anything I missed. Send a report to Snow.” 

Lorna nodded. “I'm going to talk to Pietro.” 

Pietro was in his room recovering. After they'd gotten back to Serval, he'd needed to be observed and put on an IV because his body was in shock from the interaction between the serum and its antidote. But now, aside from being tired and a little off-color, he seemed okay. 

Lorna sat on the edge of his bed. There was a stack of books on the floor, and another in Pietro's hands. Gently, she lifted the book and placed it on the bedside table. Pietro frowned at her. “I was reading that.” 

“I'm sure you'll finish it anyway,” Lorna said. “I want to talk.” 

“Okay,” Pietro said. 

“About what happened,” Lorna continued. Pietro gave her a blank look and she sighed. “How you avoided telling me how bad you really felt, and that you wanted to take on the problem by yourself. I thought we were a team. You certainly seemed committed to it when you quit the Avengers.” 

Pietro winced. “I am, but I didn't want you to worry.” 

“I'm allowed to worry,” Lorna said. “I can handle it. I'm not delicate.” 

“You're anything but,” Pietro said. “I've never been good at trust, or believing that people genuinely care.” 

“I noticed,” Lorna said. “But at least you're not as overbearing, right?” 

Pietro looked slightly ashamed. “Again, I'm--”

“Sorry, I know,” Lorna said. “I'm not gonna let you forget it anytime soon, but for now, we don't need to revisit it. You're learning.” 

Pietro nodded. “You know,” he said, “I didn't expect you to accept my plan.” 

“We were kind of desperate,” Lorna told him. “It was a crappy plan.” 

“It was not,” Pietro said. 

“It was,” Lorna said. “Or are you forgetting the part where you nearly died?” 

“I don't actually remember it,” Pietro told her. 

“Because you were dying,” Lorna said. “Idiot.” 

“I had you to save me,” Pietro said. “It was that trust we were talking about.” 

Lorna elbowed him. 

Pietro's expression grew serious. “But thank you.” 

“Of course,” Lorna said. “You're part of the team.” She paused, and leaned closer. “You're my idiot brother.” 

Pietro gave her a small smile. 

“By the way,” Lorna added, standing up, “I've set up a coffee date with you and Remy.” 

“What!” Pietro tried to stand up but Lorna pushed him back down. “Why would you--?”

“He was worried sick,” Lorna said, “and besides, we all saw him kiss you.”

“I don't remember that, either,” Pietro said. 

Lorna smirked. “Keep lying to yourself.” And then she was gone. 

*

A few days later Remy asked Pietro if he'd like to get coffee. “Lorna might've warned you about this, but I swear it only needs ta be coffee if that's what you want.” 

“Fine,” Pietro said. Which was why they were both walking to the coffee shop. It was a cool afternoon. Pietro looked a strange combination of cozy and sharp that was unique to him, the cozy coming from him wearing a sweater and scarf to ward against the cold. 

Remy was less cozy because he was wearing his long coat. But Pietro was recovering, so he let his teammate's unusual coziness slide. 

“It's nice ta see you moving around again,” Remy said. “And not in pain or anything.” 

“It is nice not to feel awful all the time,” Pietro agreed. Remy winced, and Pietro did too. “Sorry.” 

“No problem,” Remy said. “I know it probably wasn't pleasant.” 

Pietro stopped in his tracks. 

“What?” Remy asked. 

“Lorna said you were concerned,” Pietro said. He turned to Remy and tilted his head to the side. “Why?” 

“Why was I concerned?” Remy repeated. 

Pietro nodded. 

“You were dying,” Remy said. “It was bad, Pietro. I know you probably don't remember all of it but in that lab, it looked like you might not make it.” 

“I know,” Pietro said, quietly. “That isn't what I'm talking about.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You kissed me,” Pietro said. “Before the mission started. And you were concerned before that. You let me confide in you. And you were the person who was most vocal about not wanting me on the team.” 

“Well, I told you, you proved me wrong,” Remy said with a shrug. “You did the right thing. Told the truth. Quit the Avengers, and put this team first. At first, I didn't think you cared about the team, just about Lorna. And then I realized you did care about the team, because you defended it ta Alex.” 

Pietro frowned. “How do you know that?” 

“Lorna told me,” Remy said. “We're friends, and there's really no reason she'd keep it a secret. Especially 'cause she was real upset that Alex called us second fiddle. He's an ass. But yeah, as I said, you're part of the team. And it's a good team. Without you, I hate ta admit it, we wouldn't be the same. Lose any of us and we wouldn't be.” 

“That is oddly sentimental of you,” Pietro said. 

“I'm actually a sentimental guy,” Remy said. “Ask Rogue. Actually, don't. Ask the Thieves' Guild.” 

“I'll pass,” Pietro said. “And you're avoiding my question. The kiss, Remy.” 

“You didn't seem ta mind,” Remy said. 

“I was ill,” Pietro said. 

“And would you mind now?” Remy asked. 

Pietro opened his mouth but didn't have an answer ready. Remy moved forward and cupped Pietro's cheek with his hand, wrapping his other arm around Pietro's waist, drawing him forward to meet him with a kiss. 

“I suppose I don't mind,” Pietro murmured when they parted. “But why--”

“Why do people kiss other people?” Remy said. “Because they care about 'em, in a more than friends sorta way. Don't know why, but I care about you. And I think I might actually want ta try this.” 

“Do you do relationships?” Pietro asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Remy almost pushed him away for that. “I'll have you know,” Remy said, “that I am excellent at monogamous, romantic relationships. I'm not just a playboy, you know.” 

“Prove it,” Pietro said. 

Remy responded with another kiss, this time deeper and longer. Pietro seemed to lose focus and staggered backwards, almost falling, but Remy kept him close, leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching. Pietro's skin was cool in a familiar way. 

“I will.”


End file.
